


Slow Burn

by saltandtea_in221b



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Worship, Destiel - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Reunion, Season 9, what should have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandtea_in221b/pseuds/saltandtea_in221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Season 9, about three months after the angels fall. Dean is on the hunt for Castiel. When the reunite, however, something is different about both of them.</p><p>[Kind of an AU. Not too much of a stretch, but definitely deviating from canon.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdinessboundaries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdinessboundaries/gifts).



He drove with the windows down until the weather turned cold and the rain became bitter. He drove past the cow pastures, into the mountains, out onto the expanse of the California freeway. He drove diner to diner, the occasional truck stop or cheap motel scattered in-between. He burned through fake IDs and credit cards like tomorrow would be his last day on earth. The ache in his chest told him even if it was, he wouldn’t stop driving up and down every road crisscrossing the United States. He wouldn’t stop until he found Cas.

The angels had fallen over three months ago. _Cas_ had fallen over three months ago. That was too much time. Too much time to be lost and alone without his angel powers, too much time to go get himself hurt, or worse, killed.

Dean punched the steering wheel. “Dammit Cas!”. Where else could he be? Dean couldn’t drive around aimlessly much longer. Sam and Charlie were already concerned about Cas, they didn’t need to start worrying about him too. He noted the rainstorm coming up over the horizon, urging him to stop for the night. A reluctant sigh accompanied the Impala’s turn signal, clicking a tempo that made Dean’s skin twitch in anxiety. He definitely needed rest, and the bright neon sign indicated he should be able to hunker down here for a few hours.

He casually strolled into the door labeled “Office”, squinting into the bright fluorescent. The balding, middle-aged man tending the desk had his feet up on the counter and a crossword puzzle book covering the powdered donut crumbs on his chest, which rose and fell as he snored. Dean gave the polished wood a sound “thunk” with a fist, startling the sleeping man.

“S-soooooooorryyy” came stuttered through the man’s yawn. “How can I help ya?”

“Just a room, nothing fancy there-“ Dean could see a name tag “Casey. Seriously? Casey.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Ok yeah Cas, uh, Casey, one room for the night champ.” He threw a handful of bills down on the counter.

Casey eyed him cautiously. “Okay, _sir._ Here’s your key, room 13, check-out is 10am. Have a good evening.” The whole sentence was delivered fairly monotonous without any amount of eye contact. That was fine; Dean wasn’t all too invested in making his presence known outside of paying for his room. He turned to head out the door when Casey cleared his throat in that obvious way that says “excuse me”. Reluctantly Dean twisted his torso to see the man behind him. “Yes?”

“This, uh, this is pretty messed up but- is your name Dean?”

Dean’s stomach bottomed out as he threw himself towards Casey. “Yeah that’s me. How do you know who I am? Spill.”

Casey nervously stepped back from the counter, opening a drawer that Dean prayed didn’t conceal a shotgun. Both men were deathly silent, Dean’s erratic breathing staccato against Casey’s shallow hyperventilation. The balding man slowly extracted a square piece of paper that he dutifully held out to Dean.

“What the hell man, what is that?” Dean snatched the paper from Casey’s hand, turned it over, and almost dropped to his knees. He pried his eyes away from the six characters scribbled hastily underneath his name printed in bold block letters. He felt foolish that his eyes burned and pricked, muddling up his vision into a fairly unattractive watercolor. His words were thick as he spit out “Who-who gave this to you?! Tell me now!”

“Guy about three days ago. Looked pretty shitty, the guy did that is. Looked damn tired and I’m pretty sure he hadn’t slept or showered in, well, who the fuck knows. I let him wash himself quick in an empty room then told him he had to take a hike if he couldn’t pay.” Casey awkwardly cleared his throat like the next part was the weirdest sentence he could imagine speaking. “Dude told me to keep this, if I saw a man driving a black ’67 Impala like yours with these plate numbers, tell him, um, you, I guess, to tell you ‘I’m okay Dean, we’ll be okay. I’m close by. Please come find me. I need you.’”

Dean’s flushed cheeks matched Casey’s and both men avoided eye contact, Dean digging through his pockets for his keys and cell. When he was certain his cheeks had paled, he looked Casey square in the eye.

“Where’d he go?”

“I dunno dude. He walked out to the road after he cleaned up, stuck his thumb in the air and hopped a ride with some chick in a Volvo.”

Dean snorted. “A Volvo, dammit Cas.”

“Yeah, I mean they were headed towards town. Your best bet would be to ask Holly down at the 7/11 if she saw your guy.”

“Holly. 7/11. Got it. I’m skipping the room though champ, so can I get that moolah back?” Dean waggled his eyebrows and eyed the crumpled bills still lying on the counter. The older man shrugged, and Dean quickly stuffed the money in his pocket.

More aggressively than he meant to, Dean snatched Casey’s hand, shaking it once as he managed a tight “Thanks, man.” He bolted out to the Impala, the cold drops of rain only igniting his desire to press on searching for Cas.

* * *

The phone rang twice before Sam picked up. “Hey, Dean, you find him?” He could hear the concern in Sam’s voice, making the ache in his chest throb more.

“No.” Dean’s simple word filled up the space around him and whined angrily in his ears. “I’m driving around some small town in Texas; guy at the motel I was gonna crash at had my name and plate numbers.”

“Cas? You think he’s still in town?”

“Shit I hope so. Dude said Cas was there three days ago. This is killin’ me Sammy. Who knows what happened when all those angels fell. He..” His voice trailed off as he shuddered at his darkened thoughts.

Sam obviously knew him well enough to let him be silent for a minute before putting the brakes on his train of thought that was barreling right over the cliff of reason. “Hey, Dean, listen, Cas will be okay. He’s been in this position before remember? He-“

“Yeah Sam, he ended up in the freakin’ hospital! Shit, I never checked the hospitals. Sammy what if he’s hurt? Dammit I-“

“Dean, calm down. Charlie’s gonna check any hospital records she can to see about anyone who might be Cas. Text me your coordinates, I’ll go through police records in case he got picked up. We’ll find him Dean, we will.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks Sammy. Tell Charlie thanks too.” He ended the call quickly, hoping Sam hadn’t noted the stress in his voice, the need for consolation edging on desperation. He realized he’d idled through about three green lights at the same traffic light. Punching the gas, he sped through the intersection and made a hasty left turn into the 7/11. Thankfully the rural town was void of traffic through the rainstorm.

He hauled his tired body out of the car, groaning as his fatigued muscles protested. He couldn’t deny his utter exhaustion was close to overwhelming his determination. But he had to find Cas. This was the closest he’d been to the angel in months. He’d never be able to relax even if he did stop to rest somewhere, not with the knowledge that Cas was here just 72 hours ago. Once again he squinted into too-bright lights, the gas station ablaze amidst the pitch black of the night.

A loud, shrill voice echoed off the linoleum “Holy crap! Is that your car mister?!”

It seemed to be emanating from the small teenage-looking girl behind the register. Dean slowly approached, his eyes stopping on a figure with so much red hair that it tumbled down her back, over her shoulders, and gathered in layers right around her hips. She pried herself away from the window to face Dean, a small yelp escaping as she looked up at him.

“Oh, um sorry sir! But really, is that your car?! Because for one, wow that is awesome! And two, if it is I have something to tell you. Are you Dean? I hope so. Oh, I hope so! How cute would that be?! You’re very handsome too. This is so going into my journal. So are you? Are you Dean?!”

Her words assaulted his senses, grating against his worn-out brain. He had to take a full minute to process her monolog. He finally found his voice, albeit hoarse and gravel against her squeak.

“Yeah, yeah kid. I’m Dean. Guessing you’ve seen the guy I’m lookin’ for? Bout my height, goes by-“

She interrupted him with no hesitation. “Cas. His name is Cas! Oh it _is you._ I’m so happy; he was so worried you’d never find him. I asked him why he couldn’t just call you but I guess he didn’t know your phone number. Poor guy, he was so sad. I let him eat some food and grab some water. Ah gosh, I can’t believe it’s you!”

Dean hadn’t even asked her name, but he figured she was the Holly he was looking for. He just needed her to shut up so he could ask where Cas went.

“Thanks for, uh, ya know, taking care of him. The guy from the motel, Casey, he sent me here to talk to Holly. I assume you’re Holly.”

“Yep, that’s me! Oh did Cas stop at Casey’s too? He left clues for you? Oh my gosh that’s-“

“Yeah that’s super cute, I know..” Dean let his exasperation linger into the comment. “Look, Holly, seriously thanks for giving Cas food and water. But it’s not so ang-, uh, not too friendly out there in this weather and I’d really like to just get him home, okay? So if you could just tell me where he is that’d be swell, kid.”

Holly looked like she was either going to vomit or cry. Possibly both. Thankfully she just sighed, sniffed a little, and looked up at Dean. He answer was more reserved this time.

“Sorry, Dean, I shouldn’t keep you waiting. Cas told me to tell you he’s gonna keep moving north. He mumbled something about a bunker. We don’t have those here, I don’t think. But I guess you know what he means?” Inquiring eyes gazed up at him.

“We, uh, well I, yeah that’s what we call my place. Whatever. So he went north? Did he get a ride?” His brain was trying to calculate how far Cas could have gotten if he hitched another ride. Maybe he was already at the bunker? No, Sam would have told him.

“Nope, last time I saw his pretty little butt it was headed out on foot.”

“Okay. Let’s hope I can catch up with him, huh? Thanks, Holly. You’re a good kid.” Dean offered his hand, but Holly completely disregarded it, hopping over the counter and invading Dean’s space with an overly-friendly bear hug.

“No problem, Dean. I sure hope you find him. He said he needed you. You need him too, I can tell. Go get’em big guy!”

Something deep inside Dean ignited with longing; longing to see his friend, to hear Cas’ voice and look into his eyes. He needed Cas to be okay. He disengaged from the tiny fireball that was Holly, and jogged back to the car. He called Sammy again, though he wasn’t sure why until he heard Charlie’s voice say “Hello?!”

“Hey, uh, Charlie? Where’s Sam?”

“Oh he’s passed out at the table. I would have let it ring, but I saw it was you. How’s it going?”

Charlie wasn’t Sammy, but she was the closest thing Dean had to a little sister, and he knew little sisters had even more wisdom than little brothers.

“I’m tired. So tired. And a little pissed that Cas decided to start leaving clues like it’s a damn scavenger hunt. Why couldn’t he just stay somewhere?! God he’s so infuriating, Charlie! Why didn’t he just stay put?!”

“Dean, deep breath. You’re so close to finding him. He’s probably way scared. You’re way scared. Just keep going. Be thankful he left you clues. I don’t know why he didn’t just stay, ask him when you find him. But move your ass before he gets hurt.  And don’t be a jerk when you find him, kay?”

“Yeah whatever Charlie okay.” Dean mumbled.

“Love you.” Dean could hear the warmth in her voice.

“I know.” He assumed she could hear his grateful smile over the phone before the line went dead.

The Impala purred to life. “Hey Baby, you ready to find my angel?” He fondly patted the dash as her steered out onto the main road that was still void of traffic. He rumbled off into the inky night, the wipers and rain harmonizing with Johnny Cash whispering through the static on the radio.

* * *

It took him a full 24 hours to catch up with Cas. The fallen angel had continued leaving a trail for Dean at small rest stops, various diners and motels. Dean was slightly unnerved that Cas knew exactly where to leave information so that he would find it. He underestimated how well Cas knew him.

He finally pulled into the parking lot of a trashy motel that would make Charlie and Sam giggle, expelling jokes about what exactly Cas was doing there. He hated that his face flushed at the thought. He hated just about everything right now; finding Cas was all he needed to think about.

As soon as he left the Impala, his guard was up. This place made him squirm. Or maybe it was the thought of finally seeing Cas after months of worry. Something dark blossomed in his stomach, a deep apprehension tinged with excitement. He was going to see Cas. Cas! The angel who saved him from Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. Cas, who helped Sam when no one else could. Cas, who rebelled, made exceptions, fought back, and quite literally died for Dean. Sure, Cas had done some pretty messed up shit in the years that Dean had known him, but he was still  _Cas._

Lost in thought, Dean stumbled into the main office. He was beyond the awkward stage of asking strangers if they knew him. He simply blurted out “I’m Dean.” The lady behind the desk sucked her teeth, popped her gum and slowly gave him consideration.

“Huh. Well at least you’re hot. Must be somethin’ special to make that guy wait.”

Dean stood there looking slightly aghast at this woman berating him on Cas’ behalf. He dug his boot into the worn-down carpet like he was being scolded by his own mother.

“Look ma’am, I just wanna go see him. Where is he?” He mustered up the best puppy-dog eyes he could pull from his memories of Sam. She sighed, raising a perfectly manicured hand to point outside.

“Down that way, second floor, room 130.”

“Thanks!” He barked as he sprinted out the door. His legs carried him to the door of Cas’ room much quicker than he anticipated. He had to gasp the humid air and allow his mind to catch up. A shaky knock was enough to draw movement from within. The door opened slowly, Cas peeking around the edge.

Dean laughed, but his laugh was too bright, too loud, too laced with nervousness. “Cas! Cas it’s me, lemme in man!”

“Dean? I- Dean?”

“Yeah Cas, c’mon let me in?”

“Okay, yeah.” The door swung wide, revealing Cas in clothes Dean was sure couldn’t belong to his friend. Cas stepped back as Dean crossed the threshold. Dean could feel Cas eying him; it made his skin tingle, dried his mouth like cotton. He needed to say something before it got  _really_ awkward.

“Man, Cas, those clothes are somethin’ else. Where’d you even get them? Not off a dead guy I hope, because I swear to… Cas?”

Cas still hadn’t removed his gaze from Dean. It was unnerving. His blue eyes were icy. His mouth a hard line. His skin had paled considerably since Dean had arrived all of two minutes ago.

“Shit, Cas, are you okay? Are you hurt? I didn’t- I’m sorry. I- I dunno what to say Cas. I just don’t know what you want-“

“You look different. Very different. Dean, I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Dean assessed himself. He wasn’t dressed any differently. Same jeans. Same shirt. He and Sam had let Charlie do some ‘housewarming’ shopping but he had donned his ragged hunting outfit for this wild goose chase. He literally looked the same, at least to himself.

“Cas I’m me, buddy. I haven’t changed. I- “

Cas cocked his head to the side in the way Dean knew meant he was coming to a realization.

“I can see  _you._ ”

“Were you blind? Oh god did the fall make you blind?!”

Cas chuckled darkly. “No, Dean. The fall just was for show. Metatron’s quite the game maker.” His voice shifted audibly, taking on an awed tone. “I don’t have my grace. I’ve never seen your face before. Static images like photographs, of course, I’ve seen those. But not you, not like this. You’re- Dean, you’re a very fine piece of creation.”

Dean’s mouth hung open dumbly. He had no response for Cas. He wasn’t even sure what to do with the information Cas had just given him.

“So, what you’re saying is you’ve seen some kind of alternate me? Some fake image because of your angelic grace? And now that you’re graceless, you can see  _me_ me?”

He wasn’t sure why but he felt an angry redness crossing his cheekbones. He couldn’t be mad at Cas for this, could he? It wasn’t Cas’ fault his grace had clouded his view of Dean. But… But what if Cas didn’t like what he could see now? That realization made Dean’s pulse race. What did it matter if Cas didn’t like how Dean looked? If he didn’t like it, Dean could leave him right here. Dammit he’d do it, he’d just turn around and leave. Screw Cas and his shiny new vision.

“Dean? I didn’t mean to insult you. That’s what you’re feeling, yes?”

Dean could only nod. He felt stupid, actually. Stupid for caring what Cas thought about his appearance. As long as Cas was safe, that’s what mattered. Right?

“Dean, before this devastation, I saw you in terms of your soul. That’s how I saw all humans. Anyone with a soul projected their own aura. Each soul unique. And I saw them all. But I was denied seeing the vessel underneath those souls. Unless there was a static image, such as a photograph, all I saw were the souls. How often do you think I looked at photographs of humans though?”

A small chortle shook Dean out of his disarrayed headspace. He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat.

“Okay. So, what, you saw me in like colors and crap? What do you see now? I mean, that’s kinda weird, I- “

“No it’s okay. I’ll tell you.”

* * *

Castiel knew the knock on the door was Dean. It was, of course, only due to the years of hearing Dean pound his solid fist against doors, accompanied by a gruff “Open up!”. This knock had a sense of urgency behind it, and Castiel was almost positive if he didn’t open the barrier between Dean Winchester and him, the man outside would not be afraid to take extreme measures.

What Castiel did not know was that the man who stood just outside the hotel room would look like _that._

He’d noticed early-on after the fall that he could no longer see people’s souls. It was similar to wearing 3D glasses your entire life, then having them removed without warning. It completely threw off his sense of being. He could no longer see the ‘good’ or ‘bad’ souls, the innocent and guilty no longer evident with a glance. He used to see clouds of warm yellows, streaks of blues, puffs of green or purple. Now all he saw were hues of pink, tan, olive; he saw bone structures and eye color and teeth and skin and hands and feet. It got to be a bit unnerving sometimes.

But nothing would have prepared him for seeing, really _seeing_ , the body and eyes and face and hands and lips of Dean Winchester. And now Dean wanted Castiel to describe what he saw when he looked at Dean. Was there enough breadth for that in his vocabulary? Did he have the right words? He must, because his mouth began moving and his feet began walking toward Dean and his voice began filling the room.

“Your eyes are a magnificent forest green, startling in their clarity actually. It was what I, uh, noticed first when I opened the door.” Castiel cleared the thickness gathering around his Adam’s apple, pressing onward with his descriptions. “I could always tell the size of a person’s body, their height in relation to me, their girth as well, just not the small details. I apologize at how intimate this seems.”

Dean made a nondescript noise in the back of his throat. His cheeks pinked.

“You’re blushing; the blood colors your cheeks and neck when your emotions come on suddenly. It dusts itself over your cheekbones, which are prominent but not angular. You’ve got freckles scattered all over your face. Your blush accentuates them.”

Castiel couldn’t help it. His thumb brushed along Dean’s honeyed skin in sweet admiration for the luster as well as the flesh that covered muscle and bone along the lineament, his digit moved downward, hooking on his stubbled jawline.

“You’ve got facial hair growing in, about two days’ worth. It’s slightly blond, a few shades darker than the hair on your scalp. That hair, up here-” Castiel paused to move his hand from Dean’s jaw into his tousled hair “It’s golden in the sunlight.” Castiel moved his hand through Dean’s locks just once, dragging out the sensation of each strand brushing between his fingers.

Castiel kept his hand moving down past Dean’s face, which had fear, amazement and nervousness intermingled along its strong features. His hand fell lightly on Dean’s broad shoulders; he could feel the taut muscle rippling beneath the cotton fabric of the shirt. As his fingers curled absentmindedly into Dean’s clothing, Castiel’s body responded in kind, involuntarily closing the gap between their bodies. Face to face, Castiel could see Dean’s immediate response to their proximity; his onyx pupils distended fully, chapped lips slightly parted, his slender nostrils flared with emotion. Dean’s flush had deepened, spreading downward, and increasing his body temperature. Castiel hadn’t failed to notice his own warmth blossoming down his neck as well. Dean’s warm breath puffed out from his pout, intermingling with the damp hotel room air. Castiel’s human responses tingled and shivered, a small breathy coo escaping as he tried to inhale Dean’s minty, leathered smell.

“So warm, Dean.” Again Castiel found he was fighting for control over his humanness as the words tumbled out. He heard Dean’s breath hitch, catching just right in the back of Dean’s throat. A feeble voice, dripping in anxious need, whispered “Cas, what… What did my soul look like?”

Castiel sucked in a lungful of moist air laden with Dean’s aromatic presence. That was not what he had thought Dean would respond with. He silently rejoiced at Dean’s acceptance of his adorations. For fear of losing his mindset, Castiel took a step backwards, planting himself firmly in front of Dean. He watched his hunter nearly unravel. Dean’s shoulders slumped, his elegant neck bent as his head dropped towards the floor in what Castiel hoped could be despair at their parting. Dean’s breath was ragged and stuttered; his hands became fists in his pockets.

“Dean, you seem shaken. I’m sorry. Come sit down.” Castiel moved to the edge of the hotel’s dingy bed, gingerly placing himself on the less-than-comfortable spring mattress. He placed a hand on the red flowered bedspread, indicating that Dean could sit out of reach if he wanted to. Much to Castiel’s chagrin, Dean did in fact place himself out of  reach. Dean proceeded to place his head in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees.

“Your soul was one of the most magnificent souls I had seen. I’d seen many impressive souls before in my years in the Heavenly garrison; Marie Antoinette’s was a deep purple swirled with bits of orange and yellow, Mother Theresa’s a vibrant gold laced with cerulean blues. Even Adolf Hitler’s soul was shockingly interesting to look at, full of boisterous greens, pale pink, a swath of granite gray. Yes, I’d seen many a soul, Dean. But yours. I just-.”

Castiel shook his head, staring off into an absent corner of the universe. Dean was stilled, silent beside him. “I had seen your soul once, before I was commanded to retrieve you from Hell. I hadn’t known that it would become such an important thing. You were a bright flash of white, quite literally a firecracker in the darkness.  Then as the explosion petered out, a soft burnt orange crept in, accompanied by canary yellow, chased by lilac and cobalt. You stayed like that for a while, I’d assume. That was the only time I had seen you. Until I fished you out of Alastair’s reign.” Castiel sighed heavily; remembering Dean’s untarnished soul produced an uncomfortable twinge deep in his gut. Dean finally turned his bowed head to look at Castiel, eyebrows stitched in confusion, jaw tensed in apprehension.

“My soul doesn’t look like that now?” Dean’s words came out rushed, slightly garbled as he tripped over his tongue.

“No. The last time we were together, I saw a soul unlike any other I’ve witnessed before. Dean, your soul was-” Cas trailed off in his thoughts. Vaguely he felt Dean shift, the mattress foiling his covert plan to move closer. He felt Dean’s fingertips brush his, accidentally or not he was unsure. Dean’s movements calmed, his hand still resting upon Castiel’s, when Castiel resumed speaking.

“Your soul has faded from a firecracker to a flickering flame amidst the darkness, Dean. It’s still bright, white hot flames licking up over delicate butter yellow and bubble gum pink and periwinkle. But those flames cast deep shadows as well. You’ve got obsidian tendrils grasping through the colors, blood red seeping into chocolate brown. You were like, ah, a sunset being chased by the dusk. It’s truly beautiful. I’m very disappointed I can no longer see it freely.”

The shift in momentum happened too quickly. Castiel barely had time to blink before Dean Winchester was in his face, _right there_ , with wild eyes and a hand that seemed as if it couldn’t gain enough purchase on Castiel’s face.

* * *

Dean was so far gone by the time he grabbed Cas’ face, he hardly registered the confusion wrinkled along Cas’ brow. His fingers grazed the very human stubble along Cas’ cheek, grasping for a grip on his jaw. And then he was kissing cool, velvety lips that soothed his heated, chapped ones. Cas’ breath tasted like stale coffee, hints of sugar still lingering along his tongue. He could feel the apprehension slip away from Cas, felt fingers knotted into the collar of his shirt, heard Cas’ breathing become thin. His own lungs were screaming for relief. Coming up for air wasn’t as tempting when the very thing that was drowning him also kept him alive.

Dean’s mouth moved hotly over Cas as the gears in his mind spun voraciously onward. What the fuck was Cas saying? His soul was like a _sunset_? His eyes were the first thing Cas noticed? And why the hell had it become so hot in the tiny room? He wrestled with the thought of what had just happened. Cas had basically just eye-fucked him, gotten in his personal space, apologized, then told Dean his soul had been _beautiful._ A firecracker. A slow burn.

Dean had loved a lot of people. Mostly women. Mostly in a sexual manner. Okay, primarily in a _very_ sexual manner. But this thing with Cas was different. He knew he loved Cas. Cas was like family. But his love for Cas was nothing like his love for Sam or Charlie. Hell, it wasn’t even the same as his love for Lisa and Ben. But it was there, all the time, beating in Dean’s chest like a caged animal. It filled his stomach with flames that smoldered long into the night. Cas had consumed him. A slow burn.

That passion was not lost on Dean. Neither were the implications of what Cas’ words really meant. Dean might not have finished high school or gotten a degree, but he knew people well enough to know when someone was admitting their love. And Cas had just spent the last half an hour talking about Dean like he was the most amazing person, most amazing _thing_ , Cas had ever seen. The raucous, pounding pulse filling his ears began to fade, his breathing mellowing out. Reluctantly, Dean hauled his face away from Cas enough to focus on the crystalline cobalt eyes gaping back at him. There wasn’t any consternation there, just a quiet consideration happening. Deliberately, Dean leaned in to plant one smooth kiss along Cas’ calm lips. He felt them twitch into a smile, revving his heart to a thumping cacophony in his ribcage. At least Cas didn’t seem to mind the affections.

Again Dean pulled back, directing his mouth to form words instead of kisses, to make sense of this instead of kissing Cas senseless. Air evaporated from his lungs when he finally huffed out

“Cas, I need you.”

**Author's Note:**

> My brilliant friend nerdinessboundaries inspired this, and gave me the description for Dean's soul.
> 
> Edit: Remember when I wrote this and then we got to see Dean take Cas' face in his hands in canon? *sigh*


End file.
